


The Weight of a Heart

by youjik33



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: First Time, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:31:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A plane ticket from Ibiza to London is a lot cheaper than a plane ticket to New York, so a slightly homesick Nick decides to spend New Year's Eve with Ahkmenrah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Weight of a Heart

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote most of this way back in July and rediscovered it just in time for the new year. Not sure what made me think of this pairing in the first place, but once I had I really wanted to write it.

Nick Daley used to love New Year's Eve. It was a great excuse to spend a night with his dad at the museum, and the party was always pretty crazy. They'd put the Times Square ball drop up on a couple of TVs, and everyone in the museum would count it down together. His mom and Don were pretty nice about it, too, even if he knew they didn't quite understand why he was so insistent on spending EVERY New Year's with his dad.

Nick made it through Hannukkah and Christmas in Ibiza with only the mildest twinges of homesickness. He had friends, and he had Skype, and his family mailed him presents that he obediently opened in the correct numbered order on the corresponding night, and it wasn't so bad. A couple of days after Christmas, though, he started really missing his dad and the museum and the weird tradition he couldn't actually tell anyone about.

He actually started to think about trying to go home for New Year's, but airfare was ridiculous. He'd been making a small steady trickle of income, and was living in a tiny apartment with four other people, so his rent was low and he had a little cash socked away, but he just couldn't justify blowing it all on a plane ticket just because he was kind of sad.

But, he realized, there was somewhere else he might be able to go. Someone else he'd once kind of considered a friend, and hadn't seen in a while. And London was a heck of a lot closer than New York City; airfare was a third the cost.

 

* * *

 

“Sure you can come! I've got a fold-out sofa in my flat, and the club scene in London is definitely worth seeing. Ahk would love to see you, he's gotten a little bit despondent lately.”

“Really?” Nick asked. “Despondent? That's not good, is it?”

“Oh, well,” Tilly said. He could almost hear her shrugging over the phone. “It's not like he's in danger of wasting away or anything. But it'd probably be good for him to see a familiar face.”

 

* * *

 

So that's how Nick ended up taking a cab from Heath Row to the British Museum during the afternoon of December 31. It was open, with abbreviated hours, and admission was free, so he took the opportunity to wander around for a while; it was kind of fun to see what the place looked like when everything was still and peaceful. The Greek statues, in various stages of disrepair, were still vaguely creepy, but the xiang liu was really beautiful when it wasn't trying to kill him. He found Lancelot and the triceratops skeleton and the winged Assyrian bulls, and finally the mummies in the Egypt wing.

They'd shipped Ahkmenrah's canopic jars over, once the transfer had been made official. Nick recognized them right away, organized in neat rows on a shelf along one wall, next to those of his parents.

He'd written a report on mummification in middle school once. Ahkmenrah had pointed out each jar – liver, stomach, intestines, lungs; the baboon head on the last one had snapped at Nick when he got too close, and Ahkmenrah murmured something in his own language to calm it.

“Where's your heart?” Nick had asked.

“That I keep,” Ahkmenrah said with a smile, putting a hand over his own chest. “The heart holds the weight of a person's misdeeds, and in the afterlife is weighed by Anubis against the feather of Ma'at. One may only enter the afterlife if it's light enough.”

“So what if it's too heavy?”

“It's devoured by a monster.”

Nick had found that story both horrifying and awesome, and included it in his report, complete with illustrations; Ahkmenrah hadn't told him that the monster was a cross between a lion and a hippo with a crocodile head.

He wondered now, looking at Ahkmenrah's polished gold sarcophagus, if the weighing would ever take place, or if Ahkmenrah and his family would live forever. It was strange to think about. When they'd met, Nick had been ten, and Ahkmenrah had been twenty-four; now Nick was nineteen, and Ahkmenrah was still, for all intents and purposes, twenty-four.

He lingered in the Egyptian Wing until the closing announcements, at which point he headed for Tilly's guard shack. She gave him a big affectionate hug, which was a bit of a surprise considering when they'd met he'd locked her in her own shack. “So good to see you!” she gushed. “Sunset's in about forty minutes, how about I make some tea and tell you all about how things have been over here? It's so nice to have someone I can actually talk to.”

She seemed to have taken quickly to the new complexities of the job. Of course, Nick's dad had helped her out, and Ahkmenrah and his parents had full control of the tablet, so things weren't as crazy as they'd been for Larry when he'd started. Nick hadn't had a chance to talk to Ahkmenrah about their plans in person, but Tilly assured him that everything was settled. Once the sun set they headed inside.

 

* * *

 

Ahkmenrah had never seemed particularly intimidating to Nick. He had a certain air of authority, to be sure, and could be terrifying when he was angry, but Nick had always felt comfortable around him. Marenkhare was another story. He stood motionless as a statue, his sceptre perfectly vertical, frowning vaguely at Nick as though silently judging him and finding him wanting.

“Um,” Nick said. “It's, ah. Nice weather over here, huh? Winters in New York City aren't ever this mild.”

Marenkhare's frown only deepened, and his eyes narrowed. “I realize you were instrumental in the revival of the tablet,” he said. “And I respect your father immensely. But if any harm befalls my son tonight, you will suffer the full weight of my vengeance.”

“Uh, yeah,” Nick said. “That's fine. Totally understandable. We'll be careful, I promise.”

“Husband, I share your concern, but our son is a grown man, as is Nick,” Shehepseret said softly, putting her hand on her husband's arm. “They can take care of themselves.” Her face broke into a smile that made her worthy of the nickname Glittering Jewel of the Nile, and she tilted her head to look behind Nick.

He turned, and felt his heart jump to his throat.

Ahkmenrah was a handsome man. Nick had always been aware of this, in a vague kind of way, from the moment he'd first pulled the bandages from his head and revealed not a decaying skeleton but bright dark eyes and high cheekbones. But he'd always had a sort of untouchable, otherwordly air. Now he was wearing a pair of skinny jeans, canvas shoes, and a teal v-neck shirt that clung to his slim frame. He held a dark navy jacket draped over one arm. With his head bare he looked younger than ever. Tilly must have picked out the outfit, but he would have looked completely at home in a gay club.

 _Oh no,_ Nick found himself thinking. _He's hot._

“Well?” Ahkmenrah asked, holding out his arms. “How do I look?”

“Ah,” Nick said. “Um.” He had to clear his throat before his voice worked. “Great. Great! You'll fit right in.”

“Shall we be off, then?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“Yeah. Hey, look,” Nick said, turning back toward Ahkmenrah's parents and pulling his phone out of his pocket. “I already looked it up, and sunrise is at 8:06 in the morning. So I'm going to set the alarm on my phone for 7:00. That gives us over an hour to get back here, even if we completely lose track of time.”

“See, husband? He's very responsible.”

Marenkhare softened a little. “I know. Go, then, and enjoy yourselves.”

Nick wasn't sure if he should bow or something, but settled for a wave. Ahkmenrah inclined his head at his parents and said, “Happy New Year, both of you!”

Tilly, Lancelot, and a couple of white marble Greek guys with all their limbs were putting streamers up across the lobby as they passed. Nick couldn't help but laugh; New Year's Eve was, apparently, basically the same here as it was at home.

There was a bit of a chill in the air as they let themselves out of the museum gate and stepped onto the sidewalk, and Ahkmenrah shivered and zipped up his coat.

“You okay?” Nick asked. “Maybe we should see if we can find you a scarf or something.”

“Thank you, but I'm all right,” he said with a smile that made Nick's stomach do a little flip. “I don't get out much, that's all. I actually really enjoy it.”

“Well, if you have any problems, let me know. Clubs can be really loud and really crowded.” Nick was banking on the crowded part, because Ahkmenrah didn't have any kind of ID. In his experience Europe was a little more lax about that kind of thing anyway, but if they were bothering to card everyone, they were gonna be in trouble.

Nick had read a lot of reviews and talked to a lot of locals on Internet forums, and he had a few different places in mind to check out.

“And I thought,” he explained as they walked, “If we wanted, we could try to get down by the river to see the fireworks at midnight. If it's anything like the Times Square ball drop back home, though, it's going to be pretty insane. We might not be able to get anywhere near it.”

Ahkmenrah's face lit up at the word “fireworks”. “Let's try,” he said, linking his arm through Nick's. “That sounds amazing. Thank you so much.”

They looked like a couple, walking arm and arm, flushed and grinning. Nick was sure of that, though he doubted Ahkmenrah was. Ahk had watched a lot of TV back at the Natural History Museum, so he wasn't exactly naïve or sheltered, but it still probably hadn't really occurred to him.

People are probably wondered how I snagged a 10, Nick found himself thinking, and stifled a laugh.

There was a line at the door of the first club, but not a long one, and the bouncer glanced at Ahk and at their joined arms and waved them through.

“Oh my god,” Nick said, raising his voice over the thumping of the bass, “I'm pretty sure he just let me in because I'm with you.”

“What?” Ahkmenrah's brow furrowed. “What would that have to do with anything? He doesn't know who I am.”

“It's because you look good,” Nick said as they checked their coats. “They like to fill places like this with pretty people.”

“Am I pretty?” Ahk asked, genuinely caught off guard.

“Yeah,” Nick laughed. “Yeah, you're pretty.”

He looked rather pleased with himself. “Come on,” he said, hand closing around Nick's wrist and dragging him toward the dance floor. “Let's dance.”

Nick considered himself a pretty decent dancer. He had rhythm, at least, and he had been around drunk awkward party-goers enough that he wasn't very self-conscious of his own appearance any more. As long as you moved to the beat and waved your hands in the air (like you just didn't care), you were fine.

But Ahkmenrah was another league. Maybe part of him was still restless after spending fifty years' worth of nights locked in a box, but the instant they stepped onto the dance floor, he was jumping, moving his arms in complicated graceful patterns, his stomach muscles rippling under his clinging t-shirt.

 _Holy shit,_ Nick thought, as he jumped to the beat. _This is not good. Has he always been this hot? Did I just not notice, before?_

Well, Nick hadn't really been old enough to appreciate it until recently; that might have been part of it. And seeing him in this setting was, maybe, just forcing Nick to look at him in a different way.

Nick needed a break first, and managed to push his way to the bar and order two beers. He'd downed half of his already when Ahkmenrah collapsed against the bar next to him, laughing and wiping sweat off his forehead.

“Thank you,” he said as he took a drink of his own beer. It left a little foam mustache on his upper lip, and Nick found himself wide-eyed and staring as he licked it off. “I needed this so badly.”

“Hey, no problem,” Nick said once he'd found his voice. “I'm glad you wanted to come. I was getting kinda homesick.”

“How is your DJ business?” Ahkmenrah asked.

“Well, it's not really a business. But I book gigs here and there. There are like a million clubs on Ibiza, so even though competition's pretty tough, there's almost always somewhere looking for someone to spin for a couple of hours. I'm getting by, and I'm learning a lot.” He sighed. “It just kind of sucks, because I love it, but I wish I could be at home at the same time.”

Ahkmenrah nodded. “I understand that. As much as I love seeing my parents again after all these years, I miss New York, too.”

“Guess we just have to accept that we can't have everything we want,” Nick said.

“Yes. But we can have some of what we want. And that's special, in its own way.”

“I guess it is.”

By 11:30 Nick had drunk three beers and danced for what felt like ten hours. He couldn't believe it was going to be another eight hours until sunrise. Ahkmenrah seemed like he could dance all night, but when Nick tapped him on the shoulder and said “Fireworks?” he nodded eagerly.

They collected their coats, but carried them in their arms. The cold night air felt refreshing, and they walked along the sidewalk in silence.

Nick pulled out his phone to check the time, and briefly thought about calling his dad – but it wasn't going to be midnight in New York for another six hours, he remembered.

The crowd thickened as they neared the riverbank, everyone turned expectantly toward where the Millennium Eye was silhouetted against the night sky, so he figured they were in the right place. They pressed their way as close to the railing as they could, and Nick nearly jumped out of his skin when Akhmenrah's hand touched his, fingers twining together.

It was just because of the crowd, he thought. So they wouldn't get separated. But Nick turned his head to admire Ahkmenrah's profile, anyway, and the way his dark eyes glowed in the lights.

“Ten!” Nick wasn't even sure where the countdown had started, but the crowd took it up instantly. “Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One!”

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” yelled a thousand voices, and the first of the fireworks exploded with a boom, sending glittering white sparks across the crowd and the river.

All around them, couples were embracing – apparently that was a tradition on this side of the pond, too. Nick dared to squeeze Ahkmenrah's hand, and turned to look at him, and then Ahkmenrah was leaning in and pressing his lips to Nick's.

His first thought was that Ahkmenrah didn't know any better, didn't realize that it wasn't like there was some rule that you had to kiss the person you were with just because it was the new year. But when he gasped, Ahkmenrah's tongue was suddenly in his mouth.

“Oh,” he said when they pulled apart. He was shaking, and he clasped his hand around Ahkmenrah's wrist to steady himself.

“Was that... was that all right?” Ahkmenrah asked. “I'm sorry. I should have asked first.”

Nick's heart was pounding in his throat as he shook his head. “It's fine. Great. Wonderful. Kind of fucked up in a way, I am so not telling my dad, and I'm definitely not telling your dad, but – uh, I have keys to Tilly's place, and she said I could use it for whatever, and nobody else is gonna be there, so I mean, if you want to make out some more, in private--”

“I do,” Ahkmenrah said, kissing him again.

 

* * *

 

Nick was going to be eternally grateful for the GPS app on his phone for the rest of his life, because he couldn't imagine navigating the crowded London sidewalks, full of happy drunks and echoing with car horns, party crackers, and snatches of Auld Lang Syne, on his own. But they got to Tilly's place in barely fifteen minutes, tripping over themselves and each other as they kicked off their shoes, and Nick fell onto the sofa with Ahkmenrah on top of him.

“Wait,” he gasped, though his own hands didn't seem to want to obey him but instead wanted to splay across Ahkmenrah's back. “You sure this is okay? I mean, you're not drunk or something, are you?”

“No, of course not,” Ahkmenrah said. “I feel wonderful, actually. Alive. More alive than I have in... well. Many years.” They hadn't gotten a light on, and the street lights coming in through the window blinds threw lines across Ahkmenrah's face as he frowned down at Nick. “I'm sorry, are you uncomfortable? I thought-- I had gotten the impression, when we were dancing, that you might be interested, but if I was wrong--”

“You weren't wrong,” Nick said. “I'm-- interested. I just-- this kind of surprised me, is all. And it's a little-- I mean, okay, I'm nervous. I haven't really, uh. I mean, I don't have a ton of experience.”

“Nick,” Ahkmenrah said with a smile, “I haven't had sex in millennia. You don't have to feel self-conscious about experience.”

Nick's brain had stuttered to a halt at the word “sex”, and he was so hard it actually kind of hurt, his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. It was, maybe, not great houseguest manners to fuck a four-thousand-year-old pharaoh on another person's couch, but at this point he was definitely not going to worry about it.

He still wasn't sure exactly why Ahkmenrah wanted this. But he put his hand on the back of Ahk's neck, tugging him down for another kiss, and then let his hands do what they wanted, which was to slide up the back of Ahkmenrah's t-shirt, feeling the smooth skin. Ahk shifted his leg so he was properly straddling Nick, and their groins ground together; Nick gasped into Ahkmenrah's mouth as he realized the other man was hard, too, that all was separating them was a couple layers of clothing.

“How do you prefer it?” Ahkmenrah asked, voice soft and warm against Nick's ear.

“...prefer what?” he asked.

Ahkmenrah made a little confused grumble. “I don't know the terms in your language. Do you prefer to be taken, or to do the taking?”

“Oh. Oh, my god. I have no idea. I've never actually-- I've been with girls” (well, _a_ girl; he had a brief twinge of regret over his breakup with Andrea) “but I've only ever done, uh, hands, with guys.”

“Then for now, let's stick with what you're familiar with, hm?” Ahkmenrah said, and tugged at Nick's zipper.

“Yeah, okay, we can do that,” Nick said. He half sat up on his elbows, because he felt a little weird about still having his shirt on, and tossed it on the floor.

Ahkmenrah responded by pulling off his own shirt, and Nick knew it was silly to think of this as some kind of contest but he still felt a stab of inadequacy, because Ahk's skin was smooth and flawless and his abs were just defined enough that Nick wanted to lick them. Instead he ran his fingertips over them, which made Ahk gasp a little, stomach jumping under Nick's touch.

Ahkmenrah leaned in for another kiss, worked his hand inside Nick's jeans.

“Mmmf,” Nick said around Ahkmenrah's tongue, bucking into the touch.

“Sorry.” Ahkmenrah pulled back a bit.

“Ah, no, I didn't mean stop, it was just – please don't stop?”

“Oh. All right then.” The smile he gave Nick then was strangely shy, though Nick didn't see what he had to be self-conscious about. He reached under the waistband of Nick's boxers, and Nick suddenly wondered if Ahkmenrah had ever masturbated at the museum, shut in a bathroom stall in his fancy pharaoh's robes.

“Can I do you, too?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ahkmenrah said. “You might have to help me with these pants. They're much stiffer than I expected; I had some difficulty getting them on.”

Nick was only too happy to help peel the jeans off Ahkmenrah's legs. He had a pair of plain white briefs on – he supposed Tilly had bought the underwear; she certainly had never expected Nick to see it, he realized guiltily. Once they were both naked Nick was surprised to find himself much less nervous than he'd been before. Ahkmenrah just looked like a man – a really hot man, sure, but it was easy to forget that he was technically undead. They lay together on the sofa, their tongues in each other's mouths and their dicks in each other's hands, and for those few moments it was like they were just two stupid horny young men trying to get off with each other, which was one of the most ordinary things in the world.

Nick came first, which would have been embarrassing if Ahkmenrah hadn't groaned into his mouth and followed him right after. They lay panting, a tangle of sweaty limbs, and Nick put his hand on Ahkmenrah's chest, felt the heart beating there. He wondered how much it weighed.

“I'm sorry,” Ahkmenrah murmured, his face pressed against the top of Nick's head.

“What? What the hell for?”

“I don't know. I feel I may have used you, just now.”

“Used me? Really. I'm pretty sure that was mutual using.”

“You may be right. Still...” Ahkmenrah sighed.

“Hey, don't feel bad. I mean, I know this is... weird. I'm going back to Spain in two days. But even if I wasn't-- I mean, it's not like we could really date, could we?”

“...we could give it a go.”

“I could Skype you." Nick couldn't keep the excitement out of his voice. "Tilly can teach you how.”

“I already know how. I Skype your father, on occasion.”

“Really? ...shit. We'd have to tell him. At some point. He's going to think it's weird.”

“Is weird bad?”

“Not necessarily. But he'll give me that look where his lips get all thin and he'll say my name all disapproving, and then try to pretend he's okay with me making my own decisions, but he's really paranoid that I'm ruining my life.”

“I suggest we don't tell _my_ father until you're safely out of the country.”

Nick wondered if anyone had written a young adult paranormal romance about a sexy mummy yet. It might be an untapped market. This hadn't been what he'd intended from the trip at all, but maybe it was something better, even if it was also much more complicated. When he stood in front of the museum at 8:06 am, watching the rooftops turn gold with sunlight, he thought that his own heart felt as light as a feather. Lighter.

 

 

 


End file.
